


There's something rotten in Beaconia

by pterawaters



Series: Beaconia [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Collars, Exhibitionism, F/M, King Derek Hale, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Polyamory, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Derek's pleasure slaves make Lord Rafael McCall sick. The monarch should be less concerned with getting off, and more concerned with helping Lord Rafael get his son back from the Argents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's something rotten in Beaconia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).



> Written to make myself feel better during a sick day. Also, I think it's something Saucery will enjoy :)

Lord McCall enters King Derek's throne room and pauses as the herald steps in front of him. He's a tall, yellow-haired youth who sneers at Rafael before turning and announcing him to the room. "The Earl of St. Francis, Lord Rafael McCall!"

Some of the lesser nobility around the room stand at Rafael's presence, but not nearly enough of them. The king sits upon his throne, a pretty, half-nude redheaded slave on his lap and a youth with short, dark hair kneeling between his legs. King Derek's eyes open, but stay half-lidded in obvious pleasure as Rafael approaches. "Lord McCall," he says with the barest of nods. "What brings you to court?"

"My son is missing, Your Highness," Rafael says, outraged when the king doesn't push away the boy. "My son is missing, kidnapped by the Argents, and you do _nothing_!"

"What do you expect, Rafael?" Derek puts one hand on the boy's head while the other plays with the collar at the girl's neck. "You want me to go to war for one runaway lordling? I have it under good authority that _your son_ fell in love with one of the Argents. If you want him back, you'll have to go after him yourself. Or hire someone." Derek shrugs dismissively.

Rafael fumes, what good is this king they have, with his wickedness? Rafael understands keeping pleasure slaves, but the idea is to keep them hidden away in one's quarters, shameful and where they belong. Derek flaunts his openly. "What good is a king who won't protect his citizens?"

Derek leans forward, one arm around the redhead, keeping her from slipping off his leg. "Lord McCall, I _am_ protecting my citizens. The lives of my soldiers and the lives of the people living in the border counties are far more valuable, as a whole, than one boy who doesn't want to be rescued."

"You don't know that!" Rafael presses his lips together and tries to control his voice. As much as he may despise the king right now, he was still the king. Rafael didn't want to be hanged for treason. "Your Highness, I have to say I'm extremely disappointed. Good day."

"Good day, Lord McCall," the king says, leaning back in his throne and palming the redhead's breast. She moans softly. 

As Rafael leaves the throne room, Lord Peter Hale falls into step beside him. "Your nephew is a menace."

"Oh, I know." Lord Peter laughs. "But, I think I know someone willing to go after your son. For a price."

"I will pay that price," Rafael says, his hand hovering over where the pommel of his sword usually rests. He curses Scott's mother for infecting him with ideals about love, rather than honor and duty. "I will pay that price tenfold if it means bringing my son back."

"Not the strongest position to bargain from," Peter says with a shrug. "But we'll work on it."

~*~

Stiles follows the king from the throne room and back into the king's chambers, the lead on his collar taut between them. He sneaks a glance over at Lydia and finds her following Derek's backside with lustful eyes. Her lead is longer, allows her a little more freedom in following Derek, but Stiles actually kind of likes having the reputation that he needs to be kept on a short leash.

Once the door is closed behind them, Derek drops the leads. He lets his robe fall as well, leaving him in his doublet and hose, pacing across the room. "McCall isn't happy."

Lydia unhooks her collar and drops it to the floor, reaching for her silk robe. Scoffing, she says, "It's no wonder. If Scott doesn't come back and marry someone suitable, Lord Rafael is going to have to legitimize one of his bastards."

"Lady Melissa will _not_ be happy with that," Stiles adds in, unlocking his own collar and joining Derek when he lays out on the bed.

"I also," Lydia says, joining them and straddling Derek's waist, "saw Peter skulking around at the back of the room. He's up to something."

Stiles sort of wishes he'd been in a position to watch the room, or maybe even wander around a bit, eavesdrop on conversations. Not that he can complain too much about being allowed to put his mouth on Derek in front of a room full of people. Stiles is still hard, so he moves closer to the two of them, nudging himself against Derek's hand. "Peter's always up to something."

"Can we not talk about my uncle right now?" Derek says, that delicious strain in his voice. "I'm expected at dinner in just a few minutes."

"Well, then. We'll have to do this quick and dirty, won't we?" Lydia grins and pulls Derek back out of his hose, sinking down onto him without preamble. Derek keens. "Mm, there's a good boy."

"Fuck, I'm close," Derek says, his hand clenching around Stiles' cock when Stiles puts it there. Derek meets Stiles' eyes. "Too much teasing out there."

Stiles grins. "Hey, I had to tease you. Politicking was going on out there. You had to still be able to think."

"Don't come yet," Lydia says, her tone harsh and demanding. She rises and falls on Derek's cock in quicker and quicker motions. "I'm not done with you yet, _Your Highness_."

Derek whines, his mouth falling open and it looks like an invitation. Stiles shucks off his shirt and pushes his hose off before straddling Derek's chest. He takes Derek's head in his hands and lifts it up to get a good angle. "Open up like a good boy." 

Derek whines, but he does as he's told, letting his jaw drop and making room for Stiles between his lips, on his tongue. Stiles pushes into the king's mouth, and shivers run up and down his skin at the fact that he's allowed to do this, that Derek _wants_ him to do this.

As often as he plays one, Stiles isn't a slave. Neither is Lydia. Derek brought them here as spies, meant to infiltrate the nobility as servants and root out those nobles who would cause Derek problems. In every other job, Stiles had played his part impeccably. In this one, though, things differ. 

The nobility of Beaconia are a paranoid bunch and all three of them had to push the "pleasure slave" ruse far enough to convince them. Stiles couldn't say he minds, not with the way Derek acts completely unkingly in private quarters. 

Lydia scratches her nails down Stiles' back before putting one hand on his shoulder, using him to give herself leverage as she fucks Derek. Her hold gives Stiles less mobility, but he doesn't need much, rocking into Derek's mouth in a slow and steady rhythm that brings Stiles closer and closer to orgasm, but not quite there.

When Derek gasps, chokes, and digs his fingertips into Stiles' ass cheeks, that's the end. Stiles comes, shooting down Derek's throat and making him choke even deeper. Lydia keens and her forehead lands against Stiles' back, even as he pulls out to let the king breathe.

Derek takes a few harsh breaths, rolling onto his side in a way that knocks both Lydia and Stiles off of him. "Oh, my god."

Lydia tuts, settling down against Stiles' shoulder with a sigh. "You shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain, Your Highness."

Derek rolls his eyes and sits up. "I also shouldn't be fucking people who aren't my wife."

"Your wife's so evil you had her banished from the kingdom," Stiles says, settling Lydia more comfortably against his chest and reaching out to run a hand down Derek's arm. "I'm sure the Lord will forgive you."

Both Lydia and Stiles watch as Derek strips his remaining clothes, uses the washbasin under the mirror, and then dresses again in finely appointed garb. He catches them watching and asks, "Shouldn't you be helping me with all this?"

"No," Lydia says, grinning against Stiles' chest. "Self-sufficient looks good on you, boy."

Derek stills, his jaw clenching. When Derek first took Stiles and Lydia on, Stiles thought this expression meant Derek was angry with them. Over time, he learned that this was, in fact, the king's way of suppressing intense desire. Stiles enjoys wringing the expression out of Derek almost as much as Lydia does.

When he finally speaks, Derek says, "You two should get dressed. I'm going to need ears in the hall tonight, if you're right about Peter."

"I'm right," Lydia replies, stretching over Stiles like a cat in the sun. "You want the sexy slave look or the blended-in livery?"

Something like regret flashing over his face, Derek says, "Better make it livery."

Stiles' laugh follows Derek out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> You can visit me [on tumblr.](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com)


End file.
